What Man Is A Man Who Doesn't Make The World Better?
by AndyAnd2000
Summary: A whole bunch of King Arthur (2004) centric fics
1. Author's Note

I read some fics on AO3 and would like to say while this is a fanfic it is basically a rendition of "Drunk Words Cut Deep" by Merlinhill1920 on AO3. Its not a repost, but also the OG idea is Merlinhill1920's.

Anyways

This is an ongoing story with multiple yarns, all about King Arthur (2004)

Series 1 - Grown Ocean:

This is the story that is a reworking of another story

Short Fic 1 - Sin City x King Arthur crossover

More stories will be posted


	2. Grown Ocean Part One

Arthur grit his teeth, "You ask this of my men on this day?" He repeated to this greasy bishop. The easy smile that belied no higher knowledge of duty or sacrifice haunted him.

"I mean, they may return to Sarmatia, if they can cross the whole Roman Empire. Deserters are mercilessly hunted down and killed." Said the bishop.

Arthur grit his teeth. "I will inform my men." he started, his chair making a loud, awful noise as he stood abruptly and left.

Before he passed through the archway, Arthur turned around. "Remember this promise, bishop, for if you break it, no legion, calvary, nor God himself will stop me from exacting my revenge." He said stiffly, finally taking his leave.  
The bishop let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding, and shared a look with his underling.

Bors grabbed Vanora by the waist with one hand and danced happily with his lover, holding the newest child of theirs between them. Dag and Tristan were having themselves a knife match, and Gawaine was sitting with his lady on his lap, both wine flushed and giggling. Lancelot sat with an air of ease for once, that isn't a forced charade for the world to undermine him, his son Galahad nearby chatting with him amicably about his home, the Corbenic Castle at Montserrat.

Arthur sighed, his heart feeling heavy already, and he hadn't even said a word to his men. He stepped out of the street into the busy tavern pavilion. His spine was stiff, his cloak leaving an odd feeling on his back.

"Men!" He choked out. They all turned their eyes to him, happy for the last day of servitude any of them shall face. "Rome has one final mission for us." He said, feeling their anger flow like arrows being shot on a battlefield. The knights made a loud ruckus, hurling insults at their commander. Arthur understood completely. "They've decreed that we are to rescue Marcus Honorious and his family at his estate north of the wall. A massive Saxon incursion rises to the north."

"The 15 years is up, Artorius." Lancelot sneered. Somehow it felt like an insult to call him his Roman name.

"Our duty to Rome is done. " Galahad spat, "Our servitude is done."

Bors threw his cup at him, the red wine splashing on his armor. "You think that just because you command us that we'll do what you want? My life is my own." He spat.

"Your life always was your own." Arthur said.

"Funny how the Roman halfbreed talks of free will." Dag said sharply, taking a deep drink from his clay chalice.

It was unsaid, but it rang true. Arthur always had more freedom than his knights.

Arthur sighed, "I shall leave at first light. Do not leave for Sarmatia until I return. The whole of the Roman Empire lies between you and home, and they play wicked games with deserters like no other." He rubbed his face with his calloused hand, "Thank you for your service. Enjoy the rest of your lives, Sarmatians." With that, he turned and left for the stables, barely holding onto what little control he had.

Thankfully it was night, and the keep-dwellers were too busy with their drink to pay any mind to Arthur.

He entered the musty building, the hay thatched roof letting in moonlight. It marbled his visage in white light as he looked to the stars through a hole in the ceiling.

"Oh merciful God, how I am in such need of your mercy. Not for me." Arthur started to pray, unconsciously grabbing his steel cross, "For my men. They have tirelessly worked for Rome and for your Church these last fifteen years, even though they have no faith or belief in you. They fought for a cause not their own. You have taken so many of them. Please, let my remaining knights live out their days, I beg of you." He pleaded, wondering if he'll be heard.

Lancelot, though furious, had set out for his old commander. He checked his quarters, the hall, even the armory. Finally the knight went to check the stables. He entered, and saw the moonlight shining on Arthur like he was the Holy Grail. The white light almost held him, in a way. He was on his knees, praying to that god of his.  
p dir="ltr"Lancelot walked up to the side of the stall, easily reclining against the oak like a fat cat on a chair. br "Why do you always talk to your God but not to me?" He asked.

"My faith protects me, Lancelot. Why do you question this?" Arthur answered sternly.

"You know I don't like things that puts a man on his knees." Lancelot joked. br Arthur frowned, and stood to leave.  
Lancelot quickly moved infront of him, placing both of his hands on Arthur's still armored sholders. "Why are you doing this?" He asks, the stars from above glittering in his dark eyes. He saw what Lancelot was really trying to ask, the question of "Why are you leaving me?" was scrawled all over that pale face. Arthur felt his heart go weak, Lancelot was always so beautiful.

"Don't you know I live to make you free?" Arthur asked, "Or did you think I took lashings for my company during all those years of fighting because it felt good?" Lancelot tried to speak, but he couldn't. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, then held his second's face, his wide palms brushing against Lancelot's jaw.

"I love you so much, Lance. And I love our men, too. I'd rather be tortured each day for eternity than see my knights fall like so many have." Arthur said, kissing the top of Lance's curly head. His hands dropped to his lover's waist, Lancelot eagerly wrapping his own around Arthur. They were content to hold eachother in that moment.

"What good is freedom if you're not there to share it with me?" Lancelot said quietly.

Arthur swore he felt his heart break a little. He knew he had to do this alone. If he brought his knights along, they would surely die. But what would happen to them at the hands of the Roman calvary? Arthur shuddered. "If you happen to follow me into battle and perish, I swear to God I will kill myself right then and there, Lancelot. As my friend, as my lover, I can't lose you."

Lancelot grinned, and spoke in his native tounge, promises to Goddesses he doesn't know, and somehow Arthur felt like all of this could end well.

-‐‐-‐‐-

"Bishop. The wills of my men are their own. I shall rescue the Honorious family on behalf of them. It is God's will that these few knights are to live, and if it is not, then I shall make it so." Arthur informed the well oiled politician.  
"Thank you for remaining loyal to Rome, Arthur." The bishop falsely smiled.  
"If you are truly thankful then you shall decree that the Samartians are not to be harmed." Arthur demanded coolly.  
He left his rooms that harbored the powerful man and took his leave.

Arthur left for the estate before dawn came.


	3. The Crossover

p dir="ltr"A/N - Dag is Marvbr /Lance is a lead hitman,br /Bors and Gawaine, Galahad, and Tristan are his top /Arthur is Dwight ofc. br /Guinevere is Gailbr /Marcus Honorius is Jackie Boy/p  
p dir="ltr"Lady Honorious is Shellie/p  
p dir="ltr"Sin City x King Arthur/p  
p dir="ltr"The night was dry, dry enough that the streets weren't soaked. Usually it was blood and piss that caked this city in scum and scale, but tonight it seemed that there was peace./p  
p dir="ltr"Peace in Old Town, peace at all the precincts./p  
p dir="ltr"The only thing left itching for a fight was the scrawny goon in the corner of Kadie's. He was keeping an eye on his old pal, Marv, after he heard that some rookie bums were about to off him./p  
p dir="ltr"Lance was furious. Nobody took a guy like Marv out without reason, and it must be a damn good one. He's killed more people with his bare hands than Lancelot has killed with his beloved swords, which are now on the back of his chair. br /Now, back to the slimeballs that want Marv dead. Lancelot personally favored the thought of the brother of the Senator, the Pope, was murdering a large amount of Old Town whores, and finally crossed the line and messed with one who had people behind her. That's way too far off, though. It's probably some wet eared kid who wants to look tough to his crime boss so he ordered a hit on the biggest, baddest mother fucker around. Either way, they're gonna meet their maker when and if they ever show up. Unprofessional greenhorns./p  
p dir="ltr"Dwight cracked another peanut open, another shell hitting his red sneakers. His dark eyes scanned the room. He saw lots of things happening, none of them were important, however. Except that skinny little man keeping a sharp eye on Marv. He seemed like he had a purpose. He had a neat beard and arched brows that hung over big black eyes. Somehow he was reminded of Gail./p  
p dir="ltr"Marv was a pretty good guy. He never beat on women or killed anybody for no reason. He was an ape of a man, though, the regular muscle monkeys you'd see in a crowded prison. Most people think Marv is crazy. He just had the rotten luck of being born in the wrong century. He'd be right at home on some ancient battlefield, swinging an axe into somebody's face. Or in a Roman arena taking a sword to other Gladiators like him. They'd have tossed him girls like Nancy back then./p  
p dir="ltr"Shellie passed by, her sweet brown eyes winking, but not hiding the fear that Jackie Boy put into her. The fakeness of the concealer on her face leaving an obvious tell that she was roughed up. Dwight's blood boiled. He'd make sure to visit her tonight./p  
p dir="ltr"Back to his not-friend-not-enemy. Marv was looking to his right, a big fat sack of shit in a sweater you'd see on an athlete, and a skinny rat bastard looking chump who thinks a fedora makes him look tough were talking to him. They press a barrel in his spine and he laughs, playing their game like some diseased mouse in the paws of a an unsuspecting cat. The group leaves and nobody bats an eye. The mysterious man in the back gets up to move, two swords that weren't there earlier made themselves at home in a holster on his back. His dark eyes narrowed into slits, and he moved quickly to leave, using the same back door where he saw Marv and the hitmen go./p  
p dir="ltr"Not his business, Dwight thought, but if Marv shouldn't come back through that door soon, he'd have to do something. Three against one isn't fair, no matter how big Marv is. And Dwight doesn't leave an acquaintance hanging like some uptown flake. He got up and leaned against a the wall by the door. Dwight reached for his trusty glock, moving closer to hear the commotion outside. Two gunshots later, and Dwight burst the door down, breaking and entering all textbook like a cop. He hoped Marv was still /Instead of three armed bozos and a wounded Marv, there was one armed bozo, two dead assholes, and Marv sitting pretty in a new coat. He looked like the cat who got the cream, a detective one step closer to a finished case./p  
p dir="ltr"Dwight was still aiming at the third hitman, The Mystery, who was doing an awful job of killing Marv. br /"What're you doin out here, Dwight?" Marv asked, flicking his /He kept his eyes locked with those deep, dark brown pools, forced into darkness by a hateful glare, "Oh, you know me, always gotta make sure nobody's getting fucked over." He responded casually, "Who's your friend?"/p  
p dir="ltr"Marv grinned, blood specks from his recent kills decorating his fucked up face. "Just an old pal, ran in a gang with him some ten years back, he's out here wondering why I got hitmen after me." Marv retorted./p  
p dir="ltr"The skinny man had a sword in each hand, long fingers curling around obsidian pommels. His pretty dark eyes glittered with something Dwight's never seen. He was as slick as oil in the night and twice as deadly as a hooker in a tight spot./p  
p dir="ltr""The name is Lance," he said casually, his face still stone sour./p  
p dir="ltr"Dwight lowered his gun, eyeing the gangster with distrust, but not disrespect. "I'm Dwight." He said /"I was gonna ask the same thing." He said, finally turning his blue eyes to the large man. br /Marv scrubbed a large hand through his short hair, "Somebody was after this prostitute, Goldie, and they're framing me for her murder."/p  
p dir="ltr"I whistled low and short, "That's one hell of a dilemma, Marv. Have fun with that." He said, long wavy hair falling infront of his green eyes, someone else's smile covering his teeth./p  
p dir="ltr""Good luck with that..uh...that barmaid...uh Nellie was it?" Marv /"Shellie. I'm taking her home tonight. You know how poor excuses for men get around women." Dwight said, finally holstering his piece./p  
p dir="ltr"Marv chuckled, "All the more reason to wish ya luck."/p  
p dir="ltr""See ya, Marv, Lance." Dwight smiled as the name left his lips./p  
p dir="ltr""I'll see you later, Dwight McCarthy." Lance swore, no longer frowning, but the air of sincerity staying with him./p  
p dir="ltr"Dwight contemplated those words as he turned around, and went back inside Kadie's./p  
p dir="ltr"Lancelot put his swords up, looking at the two dead /"So, the Roarke Farm. You think you need some backup?" He /"Probably not." Marv said as he shook his head. "I wouldn't work good knowing you're out there gettin hurt."/p  
p dir="ltr"Lance nodded, completely understanding. This was going to end in a blood bath, not a quick and quiet stakeout to takeout a single target. Lance didn't work missions like that, usually. Not unless he was mad. br /"Alright. I'll go find your friend, then." Lance said with a smirk./p  
p dir="ltr""You better not be plannin on killin him." Marv said warily./p  
p dir="ltr""I got something better in mind." br /-br /Dwight had just jumped down from Shellie's windowsill. She shouts something he can't quite make out over the racket of a passing police copter. It sounds like "Stop". But he can't be sure. It's a chance he shouldn't be taking, but he can't just go home and forget about it and let Jackie Boy and his pals have their fun. They're a pack of predators, and they're out for blood tonight. A woman's blood/p  
p dir="ltr"He cuts to his Caddy across the alley, only to find the same hitman from earlier reclining in the passenger seat, Lance. br /"Howdy, stranger, " he said with a wink. br /"What're you doing here, Lance?" Dwight asked, kind of offset by his I am a wanted man. I could bring in lots of money. As a Hit Boss, Lance has to know that, /emDwight thought. His eyes must be wide, and he guesses that at some point he'd reached for his holster, because Lance chuckles dangerously. br /"I'm not here to kill you, even though we both know I should. You're a valuable man, Mr. McCarthy, but I like you with me better than sitting in a jail somewhere." He explained. br /Dwight felt uncomfortable, but Lance didn't seem like the kind of guy to fuck people over. The old breed Sarmatians, which was obvious in his curly hair and dark eyes, held family and respect over profit./p  
p dir="ltr""I hope you don't mind me chasing after that Jack fella." Dwight said, starting the red Caddy. Lance shook his head, "Whoever said killing isn't fun?" Lance said with a wicked grin./p  
p dir="ltr"They're headed to pick up Jackie Boy heading like a bat out of hell up the hill. Dwight's speeding. That's a good way to get himself noticed and if you're a murderer with a new face whose one fingerprint check away to the fast track to the gas chamber, like he is... the last thing you want is to get noticed. He doesn't have nearly enough cash on him to bribe this cop and even if he did, there's always the outside chance he's of the honest ones. Does he try to talk my way out of this? Or does he take this cop down and risk it all? Then Jackie Boy saves them both a great big streaming pile of trouble./p  
p dir="ltr""They're headed to Old Town," Lance said with warning in his voice. Hitmen aren't welcome in Old Town even off duty, they bring in too much trouble./p  
p dir="ltr"Dwight frowned./p 


End file.
